


The Stars of Dawn

by WickedWiles



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Eden (Raid) spoilers, F/M, Fae mischief, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Self-Esteem Issues, Shyness, WoL is a Virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 14:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedWiles/pseuds/WickedWiles
Summary: The Warrior of Light is one of the most formidable forces in the world when it comes to the battlefield, but that doesn't stop her from falling prey to insecurity when the fighting reaches a lull.Can a certain Astrologian help her find her way to a brighter awakening?
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Warrior of Light
Comments: 30
Kudos: 137





	The Stars of Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I got to the Shadowbringers expansion, and I got distracted from writing my main fic once I saw Urianger's new design, because...phew. *fans self*
> 
> Consider this an alternate universe of sorts, in which our WoL is not a confident, fiery Xaela Au Ra, but instead, a timid, insecure Duskwight Elezen, raised to believe she's less than those around her.
> 
> I'm sure this particular scenario has been done to death, but I couldn't shake it, and I like it, so...here we are!
> 
> NSFW, if the rating didn't already make that clear, heh.

She was out of breath by the time she reached the Bookman’s Shelves, leaning against the doorframe for a moment to recover from her mad dash across the flower-filled fields of Il Mheg. Inwardly, she recited a litany of curses for all things fae; she’d only taken her eyes off of her writing satchel for a _moment_, and of course as soon as she reached for it, it was no longer there.

It had taken a great deal of restraint, coaxing, threats of summoning Titania, and of course several infuriatingly pointless games to wrest the whereabouts of her belongings from the pixies. Having found nothing within to interest their mercurial whims, they discarded it with all the other ‘smelly, musty-papers’, which could only mean here.

She pushed the door open cautiously, ears alert for any sounds of movement from within. If she was very, very lucky (which in her case, was not bloody likely) no one else would be inside. Few of the Scions had any cause to visit now, save Urianger, who made a habit of returning for research purposes even after they had all reunited and relocated to the Crystarium. Not entirely unexpected, given that he’d done the same thing back in the Waking Sands after the move to the Rising Stones. Unfortunate that he was also the person she would most dread encountering in this particular situation.

She stepped inside carefully, her soft leather boots whispering against the floor, and she held her breath for a moment. The main chamber was empty, and only silence greeted her ears. She let out a long sigh of relief. For once, things seemed to be going her way. Well, besides the obvious setback that brought her here in the first place. Now the question was…where to start looking?

Books and papers were still strewn everywhere, much as they had been when they’d first found Urianger here; it was quite unlike him to be so disorganized, but such was the cost of keeping a library in the land of the fae. It was impossible to tell if anything had been more recently disturbed than anything else in all the chaos, and she resigned herself to a long search. Certainly not the way she’d planned on spending the afternoon when she came back from the Source, but she could think of worse things. She skimmed her fingers over the spines of a stack piled on the floor near the door.

_I really should have it rebound with a more distinct cover._ Dark brown leather and gold embossing were far too common amongst these tomes, and she’d not yet added any script to the spine or embellishments to the front to help distinguish it. Despite her initial trepidation, she found herself humming softly as she sifted through another stack, making note of several things she wished to read later, now that there was a little time. This sort of thing suited her much better than the frenetic rush of field work, facing down innumerable threats, but such was the burden of the Warrior of Light. Or Darkness, as the case may be.

“Oriane?”

She dropped the book she was holding with a frightened squeak, clapping her hand over her mouth too late to stifle the noise. Gods, she hated it when she did that, sounding for all the world like a startled mouse instead of a woman. She glanced to where Urianger now stood in the doorway to one of the side rooms. Side rooms she’d completely forgotten about until now. Why hadn’t she thought to check the other damned doors?

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Mine apologies. ‘Twas not mine intent to alarm thee.”

She waved a hand dismissively, heat rushing to her cheeks, hoping her expression didn’t betray the way her heart was hammering in her chest. “The fault is mine…I should have checked more thoroughly to see if anyone was home.” She picked up the book that had fallen from her hands, quickly inspecting the spine for damage, relieved to find none. “I hope I did not disturb your studies.”

“Nay, full glad am I to see thee returned, and a respite from the unfortunate lack of insight uncovered in mine efforts doth not go amiss.” He smiled, and her already unsteady pulse tripped all over itself again. “Mayhap I could assist thee with thine own search?” He gestured to the books stacked next to her. “What knowledge dost thou seek?”

_Damn. Damn damn damn._ Her face somehow got even hotter, as the thought of him finding it, opening it, _reading it_ sent her brain into a panicked spiral.

“No!” The exclamation came out much more forcefully than she intended, and he raised an eyebrow at her again. “That…thank you, but that will not be necessary. It is nothing of great import. I just…ah…_misplaced_ my journal earlier.”

“The tome in which thou hast so carefully chronicled thy travails? ‘Twould be tragic indeed to lose such a treasure.” He glanced around at the shelves, brow furrowed slightly. “Thinkest thou it wended its way here?”

She sighed heavily. “I was going to catch up with some writing by the lake…I had not the opportunity to record my impressions of our latest experiment with Eden until now.”

His lips quirked in a bemused smile. “Thy most _fanciful_ recollection of Titan.”

Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. “I swear, I have _no idea_ where most of that came from.”

He chuckled softly, and she could not help but smile in return, peeking between her fingers at him. Twelve preserve her, she could write volumes just about that sound; low and musical, all the more beautiful for the rarity of it. She could…if she could just find her godsdamned journal and get out of here before she made a fool of herself. She let her hands fall back to her lap, plucking absently at the trim on the skirt of her coat.

“I was foolish…I set my bag aside for but a moment, and some of our more inquisitive _friends_ decided to make off with it. Much of it I retrieved nearby, but it appears that to the fae, one book is the same as any other, and thus belongs with all the other books.” She gestured vaguely around the room. “So here we are.”

He nodded. “Once more, I offer thee mine assistance, if thou wishst. ‘Twould likely hasten the finding to employ both our efforts.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no, that is…quite alright. Thank you, though.”

Urianger regarded her for an uncomfortably long moment, then simply tilted his head to the side.

“Very well. Shouldst thou reconsider, mine offer remains open to thee.” He returned to the small side chamber, though he left the door open behind himself this time, and from where she kneeled she could see him sitting in front of a low table, returning to one of the volumes already opened on top of it.

Her fingers trembled as she went back to searching, heart still racing. It was a good while before she could breathe normally again, and she kept finding herself shooting furtive glances towards the other room. He seemed oblivious to her agitation, fortunately.

Gradually she allowed herself to relax, reminded again of the Waking Sands. They had spent many an hour of unspoken companionship, lost together in separate books, and she savored the familiar embrace of the comfortable silence, the scent of ink and paper, the soft rustling as he set aside one tome and opened another. Though her adventures had not afforded any great swath of time to herself, she could never sleep as long as many of her companions, and the early morning or late into the night were times the two of them often found solace in each other’s company.

She became vaguely aware of his soft voice and smiled fondly; another habit of his she had missed. He tended to read passages of particular note out loud to himself, even if there was no one else to hear, as if speaking the words could help cement them more firmly in his mind. She tilted her head to the side to listen as she knelt down to sort through yet another stack.

Whatever passage he was currently reciting was clearly written by a more recent hand, for it lacked the usual poetic vocabulary he was wont to employ, and it was somewhat amusing to hear his melodic voice using phrases he would never utter on his own. Phrases that sounded oddly familiar…

“Wherever his lips touch me, fire blooms, golden and radiant, and I am lost to reason.”

She froze.

_Oh. Oh no. No no no, seven hells, please…_

Slowly, inexorably, she lifted her head to look to the doorway again. He was standing in it now, leaning against the frame, holding the brown and gold book open in front of him, though his eyes were fixed on her rather than the pages.

“I believe I have inadvertently discovered that which thou hath desired, my lady.” His voice was somewhat lower than usual, his eyes burning into her.

Her heart slammed against her chest, as if it would break right through her, and she would have sworn her face had literally caught fire with the way it flared with sudden, radiating heat.

“I…’tis not…I mean…just dreams!” Her voice sounded shrill even to her own ears. “I just…after the blessing was gone…Midgardsormr…I felt like I should write them…in case the Mother was…but ‘tis just dreams…they do not mean anything!” Some distant part of her was aware she was rambling and not making a bit of sense, but she couldn’t seem to make herself stop. “I write them all, even the most illogical, just the same…”

He flipped back to the previous page, his eyes dropping briefly to the writing. “Lost in snowstorm made of light. Turned into feathers. Loud music from nowhere. Woke up normally. No strong impressions.”

She wanted to scream as he flipped the page forward again, willing it to stop of its own accord. It did not.

“His fingers always seem to know just how to draw the sweetest pleasure from my body, as easily as he draws the cards from his deck. When I awake, all too soon, I am still burning.” He brought his gaze up to meet hers again, and she longed for nothing more than the floor to split open and swallow her whole.

“There would appear to be a number of such…carefully detailed visions.” He closed the book gently, taking slow, deliberate steps forward until he stood over her. “Pray forgive mine intrusion on thy thoughts, my lady. Too late did I divine the nature of it…and I fear my curiosity did overwhelm my better judgement.” He offered it down to her, and her hands were shaking again when she took it, clutching it to her chest and ducking her head, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

_I am going to light ever godsdamned pixie in Il Mheg on fire. I will raze their whole village to the **ground**_…

“Oriane.”

With monumental effort, she dragged her eyes from the floor to look at him again. His expression was guarded, unreadable, pale yellow eyes still burning straight through her.

“Dost thou desire a union with me?”

If it had been possible for her face to get any hotter, she was sure she would have spontaneously combusted on the spot. A million thoughts fought for release. By rights she should be furious with him, for having not surrendered it immediately, for having read the secrets she’d denied even to herself for so long, only finally allowing the truth traction when he’d fallen, still and silent alongside Y’shtola in the Rising Stones. And yet she could not hold the anger, as it scattered before a frenzied storm of hope and fear and gods only knew what else. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly a few times, her throat too tight to produce anything but another gods-forsaken squeak.

The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly, and he kneeled before her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Even through the fabric, the contact sent a near-electric shock through her, breaking the dam that held back her tongue. Unfortunately, the words all flooded out without any particular care for coherency or completion.

“I…I would never presume…not with…I mean, not that you are not…you _are_, and I…I would, but…I cannot think that you…it is not something…as the Warrior of Light…or Darkness, or…I cannot…oh gods…”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Thy role doth not require any particular adherence to celibacy.” His tone was gentle, and he looked as if he would speak further, but her sharp, hollow bark of laughter silenced him.

“Ha! No, it has no need. I am enough to ensure such a thing myself.” She hugged the book even harder to her chest, looking down to the floor again. The corners of her eyes were starting to sting, and her throat tightened once more. “I am nothing more than a shadow, a freak of nature…such things are beyond my reach.”

She could not see his face, but his voice had a hard edge when he finally spoke.

“Thou echoest the sentiments of thy so-called ‘kinsmen’ once more.” His hand withdrew from her shoulder, and reached for one of hers, though he stopped just short of touch, an offer rather than a command. “Pray, attend me.”

Oriane hesitated, then slowly released her grip on the journal to accept it. Seven hells, it wasn’t like this could possibly get any worse.

He pulled them both to their feet, and led her towards the stairs, holding open the gate to let her pass. The loft was just as cluttered with books as the rest, though the space he’d made as his personal chambers remained neat enough. Some distant part of her mind was sent into a flurry of panic again at the thought. _His personal chambers_.

Urianger paused momentarily, pulling at a cloth that was half-covering a full-length mirror, leaned up against the wall. He took her shoulders and moved her to stand in front of him.

“What dost thou behold?”

She eyed the reflection unhappily. She’d never liked mirrors much. They’d only served to show her how _different_ she was. Her skin was too pale and tinged with an almost bluish tone, and while she was probably no more slender than any other Elezen, somehow she _looked_ thinner, more ghostlike. The flat silver of her eyes certainly did not help. Even meeting other Duskwight as she’d finally moved out into the world had done little to dislodge the unfavorable comparison to her adopted Wildwood family from her mind. And her hair…her hair she hated most of all. No matter how she tried, she could not hide the green streaks that ran through the blue, and even her attempts to dye it had come to naught. She’d wrapped it in the tightest bun she could manage to minimize the effect, but still, it looked like pond scum on water. The long coat (or was it technically a dress? She could never decide) seemed to hang awkwardly on her compared to his elegance, and the tall boots that covered most of her pants were just reminders that her legs were too damned skinny.

“Just…me. Too pale. Too thin. Strange eyes. Awful hair. Like a drowned ghost.” She recited the litany of criticisms that sprang easily to memory. “Like I do not belong in the world of the living.”

His reflection looked at her with a furrowed brow, and she could see his jaw clench for just a moment before his expression smoothed out, and he leaned forward slightly. The warmth of him hovered behind her, and she had the sudden wild impulse to lean back against him, but panic surged forth, bringing heat to her face again (turning her skin an unsightly pinkish-lavender color), and she remained still as possible.

“Then I shall enlighten thee with the vision of mine eyes.” His hands moved down her arms, just barely brushing over the fabric until they reached the bare skin of her wrists, leaving the lightest of touches that made her shiver. “Thy skin I would liken unto moonlight, shining on newly fallen snow, and thy tresses doth recall the fearsome majesty of the sea…mayhap the only one in which I would immerse myself without objection.” He smiled a little, and she could not help but return it as she remembered their departure from the Tempest. “And thine eyes…thine eyes art the stars that guide me.” He turned his head slightly, his lips very near to pressing against her ear. “Therein lies the compassion and courage that hath lifted many a forsaken soul. The strength that hath saved worlds, and untold lives. Oriane…” He sighed softly, and the warmth of his breath sent another shiver down her spine. “Thou art _radiant_.”

She’d been certain all the heat in her body was concentrated on her neck and face, but as she listened, somehow there was still a growing warmth inside her, one that adored and ached and _wanted_. She turned to face him, the reflection of his gaze both too much and no longer enough.

“Urianger…” His name came out as little more than a whisper, and anything else she might have said was whisked away by the breath that caught in her throat as he cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. Surely she was imagining it, but she could almost feel him tremble in return as her eyes drifted halfway shut, leaning in to his caress, forgetting herself for a moment.

The first brush of his lips against hers was tentative, hesitant, as if seeking permission to continue further. She tensed, unsure of how to respond, and there was an answering uncertainty in his eyes. His hands slipped away from her face, and he drew back slightly.

_No…please. Don’t go._ The sudden clarity of the thought surprised her; a calm eye in the storm of hesitation and doubt. _I want this_.

She took a half step forward, leaning up to press her lips to his, forgotten journal slipping from her grasp. It was probably awful; she didn’t know where to put her hands, settling for curling her fingers into the front of his robe, and the slight step she’d taken turned out to be too much. Her balance wavered, and she fell awkwardly against his chest.

Urianger made no protest at her clumsy advance, instead wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her, his mouth responding eagerly to hers. She felt his fingertips caress the side of her neck before slipping back towards her nape, pulling her closer, leading her with gentle cues into deepening the kiss. They parted after several long moments, leaving her slightly breathless for reasons that had nothing to do with a lack of air.

“Wouldst thou allow me-”

She nodded quickly before he could finish, not trusting her own voice. Somewhat belatedly she realized she had no idea what he was asking, and she flushed again when his thumb swept over her bottom lip. He pulled it down slightly, just before he claimed her mouth again, slipping his tongue inside. Oriane gasped inadvertently as he explored her, and after a few heady moments of savoring the experience, she tentatively sought to return the favor. Their tongues met in a brief, coy dance before she took the opportunity to delve into him, and he made a soft groaning sound into her mouth, pulling her even tighter against him before they finally parted again.

She glanced up at him nervously for a moment. “Was that…did I do anything wrong?”

He blinked down at her, then chuckled softly. “Nay, thou art…” He paused, his eyes sweeping over her face as he seemed to be searching for words. “Thou art perfection.”

Oriane huffed slightly. “You can tell me it’s awful, you know. This is…” The words died on her lips as he brushed his along her jawline, kissing a sensuous path down her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed of their own accord, and she leaned her head to the side without really thinking about it. She’d never imagined such a simple thing could stoke the warmth within her so, bringing it up an insistent burning that would not be ignored.

It wasn’t that she was a complete stranger to the idea of intimacy; it was nigh impossible to spend any time in an inn without noticing the couples tucked away at corner tables, preoccupied with the preamble to more private activities. And naturally she’d read things in the course of her varied research, some informational and some a good deal more…sensational. It had all fueled her imaginings, secluded in her quarters, particularly after she awoke from dreaming about _him_. Experiencing the reality, however, was beyond anything she’d dreamed up.

Her thoughts were snapped back into focus as his lips whispered over the edge of her ear, his teeth finding the tip with a gentle nip. She couldn’t help it; the mixture of surprise and pleasure drew another godsdamned squeak from her before she could stop it. She felt herself flush again, if she had ever stopped to begin with. At this rate, she was fairly certain that bright red was going to be her new permanent skin tone.

He pulled back slightly, staring down at her.

“I…pray, forgive me, I did not mean to…” She bit her lip to halt the stammering flow of words, waiting for his rebuke.

“Forgive thee? For being so endearing? Nay,” he chuckled, leaving a tender kiss on her temple. “In truth, I find it to be _most_ enticing.”

She blinked at him in disbelief a few times, her mind desperately trying to process the idea that he could find her to be any such thing. He gave a bemused huff at her expression, drawing her into another kiss. Remembering finally that her fingers were still curled in the front of his robe, she let go, allowing her hands to slide down his chest, feeling the contour of his muscles beneath the fabric. It was difficult to remember sometimes that this was only a manifestation of his soul and not his actual body, but somehow that thought both thrilled and comforted her. Her hands continued to wander, tracing the golden belt that sat low on his waist before sliding further down, almost with a mind of their own.

The sudden hiss of his sharply inhaled breath froze both of them for a moment. Slowly, he let her go, stepping back even as he removed her hands from him, entwining his fingers with hers as he held them gently between their bodies, now separated by more space that she would have liked. He was definitely trembling now, just slightly, as he raised her hands, first one, then the other, kissing her palms softly before letting her go completely. He took another step back and turned away, his shoulders rising as he struggled for a deep breath.

“…’twould be wisest to arrest this course for the present.” His voice was tight, as if the words came only with great effort.

She ducked her head, an entirely different heat flooding her face, one borne of shame and not a little bit of disappointment. “Of…of course. Pray…forgive me…” Her vision blurred, the corners of her eyes stinging again. How foolish could she be? Kind words and kissing, that was one thing, but to think he would actually wish to _be_ with her…that was quite another. She knelt to retrieve her journal, clutching it to her chest again. “I…I am sorry to have interrupted you…I should go.”

Almost she missed the sound of his quick steps behind hers as she moved for the stairs, but there was no mistaking it when his arms wrapped around her waist from behind, halting her movement, his voice a low, husky whisper.

“Pray…do not depart.” He pressed his lips to her ear. “Mine apologies, my lady, that I have given thee cause to mistake mine intent. Long have I hoped thou wouldst come to me…were the choice mine alone…thou wouldst not leave my sight, nor my _bed_, until thou knew in full the tale of my longing, written in thy pleasure, and signed with thy name upon my lips.”

A tragic irony, she thought, that after all she had faced, it would be his words that would end her in this moment. Her pulse was roaring in her ears, heartbeat racing madly, and if he hadn’t been holding on to her, she was certain her knees would have given out.

He took a deep breath, and she could feel the slight tremor as he continued.

“’Tis not mine alone, however…and I fear my desires may overwhelm thee. I would have thee know, in abundance of certainty, thy answer to my former inquiry, ere we advance.” He drew back a little, though his hands still lingered lightly on her waist, seeming reluctant to completely release her again. She looked over her shoulder, scarcely daring to breathe under the intensity of his gaze.

“Dost thou desire…_truly_ desire…this union?”

_Yes._ Every part of her resonated with it, body and soul, but that did not make it any easier to say aloud. She was frozen, lips slightly parted, staring up at him as her mind raced with all the possibilities, things that could go _wrong_, the ways she might disappoint him.

He watched her for a long moment, then smiled gently. “Thou needst not answer now. As before…mine offer remains open to thee, for the morrow, or beyond…”

It was like shutting the door against a howling storm outside. She blinked, and drew a deep breath, no longer paralyzed by the tumult of screaming fear. Letting her grip on the book relax, she held it in front of her, looking down at the cover, fingertips tracing over the edges.

“If there is one lesson I should have learned by now…it is that tomorrow is not promised. Not for any of us. Perhaps particularly not for me.” She wrinkled her nose a little with a wry smile. “Let it never be said that I was not ludicrously thorough in my research on that subject.” The journal made a soft thump as she tossed it on top of a nearby stack of papers. His eyes followed it, and she took the opportunity to turn and lean into him, hands sliding into his hair, delighting at the softness of it. She pulled him into an eager, if still unpracticed kiss, and his arms tightened around her again as he met her with equal fervor.

When they parted, panting for breath, she whispered against his lips before he could pull too far away.

“I want this. I want _you_. I…”

She didn’t get to finish, as he kissed her again, his tongue pressing into her mouth to explore further, encouraging hers to respond in kind. His hands were bolder now, sliding down her back, gripping her in places that had her flushing scarlet, but the main heat that concerned her was the one that still coiled inside, winding tighter with every moment. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, then to the front of his robe again, and she was struck by the sudden need to see more of him. She explored over his shoulders, down his back, but for the life of her she couldn’t seem to find what was holding this thing _on._

He smiled against her lips and pulled back for a moment. “Something thou art searching for, my lady?”

She ducked her head, feeling slightly foolish. “I…I want to s-see you…”

His fingers caressed her jawline, slipping under her chin to tilt her face back up to look at him. He said nothing, but she could feel his pulse quicken as he took her hands and guided them gently to the clasp at the back of the golden collar. It was hard to focus with the way he was looking at her, and her fingers shook and fumbled for a moment, but he didn’t seem to mind, murmuring indistinct encouragements as he rested his forehead against hers. Patiently he moved her from one to the next, until all of his golden accoutrement lay on the floor around them, and all that remained was to push the robe’s wide collar from his shoulders. She did so slowly, partially to savor the feeling of his skin, the softness of him over the toned muscles, and partially because the way his breathing was becoming ragged at her touch sent a deep thrill through her, adding to the molten heat at her core.

The robe pooled around his feet, and all that remained were his smallclothes, visibly strained by his arousal. She flushed and focused instead on his chest, running her hands over him, committing the feel of him to memory.

Her fingers hesitated when she encountered several raised scars on the otherwise unblemished skin, not far from where she could feel his heartbeat racing, and she furrowed her brow, once again remembering that this was only a manifestation of his soul. She glanced up, troubled, but the sight of him drove all other thoughts from her mind.

His pale yellow eyes were half closed, watching where she touched him, lips slightly parted, jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his breathing even, fighting for restraint. _For my sake_, she thought, and the sweetness of it was almost more than she could bear.

Suddenly emboldened, she leaned forward and kissed the hollow of his throat, right above the dip of his collarbone, whispering his name against his skin.

He groaned, and once again pulled her face up to his, capturing her in a fierce, brief kiss before moving down to her neck, kissing and nipping, sometimes stopping to gently knead the skin with his teeth, and she was sure there would be marks when they were done. The moans that escaped her were somewhat embarrassing, but the idea of him putting a claim on her only added to her need for him.

His fingers toyed with the fastenings at the front of her coat. “By thy leave, my lady?” The dark huskiness of his voice sent a delighted shiver down her spine.

She nodded quickly, still unsure that her voice might betray her. His fingers worked with surprising quickness, and she had to wonder, if he had not been holding himself back so, how her clothes would have fared. She closed her eyes as he pulled the coat open, pushing it off her shoulders to fall to the floor. It had been fitted well enough that she needed no breastband underneath, and she held her breath in anticipation of his touch.

It did not come; at least, not where she expected it. His fingers wrapped around the back of her calves as he lifted her feet to tug her boots off, and then trailed up the sides of her legs, hooking into the waist of her pants, sliding around to find the lacings before those were undone with similar efficiency. He chose not to spare her smallclothes, pushing them down at the same time, helping her step out before his fingers left her entirely.

She couldn’t help but tremble, completely exposed, aching for his touch, wondering why he withheld it. She dared not look at him, terrified to see if he was now repulsed by her, by the pale scars that dotted and slashed across her skin, a visceral tale of too many close battles carved into her flesh. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to hide.

“Open thine eyes.”

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to focus on the warmth in his voice, the dark timbre of desire that remained unabated, and slowly allowed herself to look at him again.

He stood back from her a few paces now, and the raw adoration and desire in his eyes was too much, made her want to look away. Surely she deserved neither.

“Thine hair.” His gaze was almost a physical presence upon her skin, further fueling the obscene wetness gathering between her thighs, and she slowly reached for the pins holding the tight knot in place. They fell to the floor unheeded, and she shook her head instinctively, letting the freed locks fall over her shoulders and down her back. He watched with rapt attention, visibly trembling himself now.

“Oriane…I…” He drew close again, slipping his fingers through her hair, bringing a long lock up to his lips, kissing it gently. “I have not the words…”

A nervous giggle slipped out before she could stop it. “Speechless? That is a first.”

He blinked, and then laughed along with her. He toyed with her hair a moment longer, looking at her as if he feared she would vanish in an instant if he looked away.

“Thou art still certain?” She nodded, and the look of relief and hunger on his face made her ache even more for his hands upon her. “Shouldst thou reconsider, thou _must_ speak it without hesitation...I beg of thee.”

“I will not…but if I did, I would tell you. I swear.”

He moved quickly, sweeping her legs out from under her, hoisting her in his arms before she could react. She failed to hold back another squeak, and he chuckled softly as he laid her gently on the nearby bed.

“_Most endearing_…”

And then his hands were everywhere, or at least that’s how it felt; even after his fingers trailed over her thighs, feathered touches across her stomach, and made lazy, maddeningly elusive paths around her breasts, the sensation lingered, burning. Finally, _finally,_ he moved to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over nipples that were already taut and waiting, and her back arched off the mattress as she gasped for air, fingers digging into the bedclothes. Before she could recover her wits, he followed the same path with his tongue, and everything else became a pleasure-shrouded haze.

Amazing as he was making her feel, it was not enough to satisfy the burning inside her, and she slid her hands over his arms and back, nails digging into him occasionally as he drew more gasping moans from her, desperate to provoke him to _more_. As he moved up to kiss her neck, she remembered what he had done earlier, and ran the tip of her tongue along the edge of his ear before taking the tip in her teeth and pulling.

His breath hitched, and he lifted himself to hover over her with a smirk.

“Thou art swiftly becoming most bold, my lady.”

“Urianger…please…I…I want…” Her words failed her; she wasn’t sure how to articulate how desperately she needed him. Her hips rolled up, out of her control, seeking contact.

He swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath before pressing a tender, chaste kiss to her forehead. “Thou must endure for a moment more, beloved…this shall cause thee no small amount of pain, but if thou art sufficiently prepared, it may be lessened…”

_Beloved_. She heard almost nothing he said after that point, her mind reveling in the word just as her body reveled in his touch.

His touch that came suddenly somewhere he had been avoiding until that moment, causing her hips to jerk uncontrollably, a sharp cry tearing from her lips as her vision blurred. He chuckled darkly, sliding his finger back along its path through her folds, teasing around her core. All the times she had touched herself, thinking about him, wishing it was his hands, it had _never_ felt like this; never sent stars bursting in her vision and lightning arcing through her body. She was dimly aware that she was making all sorts of embarrassing noises, moaning, gasping, and whispering his name.

Better still was the realization that some of the sounds were from _him_. He watched her face, biting his lip to try and stifle his own moans, even as his fingers slipped inside of her, stretching her slowly, first one, then another and another. His thumb brushed quick but gentle circles over her needy bud as he thrust his fingers in and out, and it took mere moments before she cried out in earnest.

“A-ah…gods…Urianger!” She clawed desperately at the bedclothes, at his back, seeking something to ground her as she convulsed around his fingers, her vision going almost white, the breaking wave of ecstasy threatening to wash her away. He whispered her name into her neck as she rode out her release, until her hips finally relaxed, falling to the bed once more.

He hovered over her, raining kisses on her neck and chest, breathing words of worship onto her skin. Still trying to catch her breath, she gathered just enough of her wits to pull him up, meeting his lips with her own, pouring all of her bliss, her gratitude, and the still aching need for _more_ into the fervor of her tongue.

The warmth of him rolled away from her for a moment, though he never broke the kiss, and she could feel him shifting around a bit before his hips returned to press against hers once more. She could feel the hot, hard length of him against her, twitching with anticipation, no longer restrained by thin cloth, and the sudden realization that _yes, finally, this is going to happen_ stole her breath in a low, wanting whimper.

He pulled back just slightly, enough that he could see her face fully.

“Thou art prepared?” he whispered, and though it took a moment for her to recover enough of her voice, she nodded, stroking the back of his neck.

“Yes…_please_…”

He pushed in slowly, carefully, and they both moaned with the feel of it, though hers quickly turned to a sharp hiss; even as wet and ready for him as she was, there was no denying the inexperience of her body, and how tightly he fit inside of her. It _hurt_, and despite knowing that it would; not knowing exactly what to brace for left her gritting her teeth against the lingering ache as he stilled, fully sheathed inside. Breathing heavily, he watched her face, brow furrowed.

“’Tis nothing,” she whispered, trying to smile, and attempted to adjust her hips slightly, but the movement had her wincing before she could hide it.

He sat up further, and she felt a moment of panic that he would withdraw and call a halt to the whole thing. The familiar tingle of gathering aether dispelled her fears, as he traced a quick pattern on her abdomen with a fingertip; in its wake, glowing points of light shone against her skin, connected by faintly shimmering lines. When it faded, so too did the pain. Muscles she didn’t realize she’d been tensing relaxed, and she smiled up at him, dispelling his look of concern.

Leaning over her, their chests almost flush, he kissed her softly as he began to roll his hips forward and back, ever so slowly, swallowing her gasps and moans at the now thoroughly pleasurable sensations.

For the first time that was not in a fight for life or death, Oriane stopped worrying about how she might look or sound, about what he might be thinking of her in that moment. Nothing mattered save the feeling of him moving inside her as he found a steady rhythm that had her writhing and moaning underneath him. She tried inexpertly to lift her hips to match his thrusts, and his hand moved gently to her lower back, guiding her in her efforts. Nothing existed save the look on his face, a heady mixture of his own pleasure and boundless affection. No sounds but those they made together, panting and breathless, whispered encouragements and endearments, soft cries as they discovered new heights together.

She could feel the fire within growing ever tighter, ever hotter, building to some unknown end that she craved, chased desperately with each movement, though it danced just beyond her reach. His thrusts grew more erratic, faster, and he rested his forehead against hers as his fingertips dug into her hip.

“Oriane…my star…how I love thee…”

For a moment she was quite certain that she’d died.

The whispered words snapped the coiled tension within with a sharp cry, and her world exploded into light and ecstasy, her body arching off of the bed to press against him, shaking with the intensity of her release. She tried not to close her eyes against the onslaught of sensation, but that battle was lost before it had begun, and she only felt it when he tensed after a few more sharp thrusts, and heard his hoarse exclamation of her name again as he pulsed inside of her.

He went limp on top of her, but she welcomed the weight, stroking his back and shoulders in a daze as they both struggled to catch their breath. Long moments went by unheeded, his breath warm against her neck, her fingers combing through his hair.

“That…that was quite a tale,” she ventured, her voice still somewhat breathless.

He snorted, and then chuckled in earnest, finally pushing himself up and rolling to the side. “Thou hast seen but the first chapters, beloved.” He stroked the side of her face gently. “’Tis much more to follow, at thy bidding.” Her face heated at the thought, and he chuckled again. “Didst thou know thy discomfit blossoms upon thy breast?”

She glanced down, and sure enough the skin on her chest was flushed as well. She wrapped her arms around herself, grumbling, though she could not hide her smile.

“Well I do now, thank you. Remind me never to wear anything low cut.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief, and he drew her close, her back pressing against his chest.

“Save for in my company, I pray.” He kissed her neck and nuzzled into her hair. “Provided thou wilt be so merciful as to grace me with such blessings.”

It was a question more than a statement, and one that held more than the words spoken. She closed her eyes, feeling his heartbeat against her shoulders.

“Urianger…only for you, my love.”

His arms tightened around her, and though they spoke no further words before sleep claimed them, their silent declarations filled the calm air.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all...I did *research*. To write *smut*.
> 
> What sort of fresh hell have I landed in?
> 
> I know a lot more about the proper usage of archaic language now, though, and I feel a lot more comfortable about writing Urianger. Hopefully I did an okay job keeping him in character. I really do <3 this pair, and I may come back and visit them again at some point.
> 
> I don't play an Astrologian, but I know it's really more about cards than constellations...but I like the idea that healing magic is as much about taking away pain as it is about closing wounds. And I liked the mental image of the spell being drawn as a constellation...so *deal* with it...
> 
> Pun fully intended. Sorry not sorry.


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